Bound (The Billionaire's Muse Book 2)

by M. S. Parker

  Except it wasn’t Alix.

  I frowned as my brother’s name flashed across the screen. It was early afternoon in Ireland, which meant Donald should have been at work, and he was always careful to not make personal calls on company time.

  “Donald?”

  “Sine, Mam’s in the hospital.”

  I stepped out of line as an icy hand grabbed my heart. “What happened?” My voice was barely a whisper as I struggled for air.

  “She and Da were touring the factory, and she collapsed. Patrick was there and called an ambulance. She’s still unconscious.”

  He didn’t sound panicked, but there was an edge to his voice that I didn’t like. Of all my brothers, he was the one the family went to for tricky PR situations or to soothe hurt feelings. The fact that he was the one to call made me think that things were bad enough that my siblings didn’t want me to freak out.

  “I’m coming home.”

  He was in the middle of patiently explaining to me why I didn’t need to do that when I hung up on him. I didn’t need to be handled. I needed to get back to my family. Immediately.

  I flagged down a taxi and gave my address before pulling up a travel website on my phone. When I’d moved, I hadn’t thought about what I would do if something happened to my family and I wasn’t there. I’d only been thinking of myself. What I wanted. What would make me happy.

  Now my mother was in the hospital, and I was thousands of miles away.

  I did my best to ignore the snail’s pace at which we were moving and focused on finding a flight. I needed to leave today. The flight alone would be around seven hours, and I would need at least an hour to go through all the security steps. The absolute best I could hope for was to see my parents in nine to ten hours. And that would be if everything I needed fell into place.

  Even though I knew I wasn’t to blame for what happened, I couldn’t completely stop the guilt. I should have been there. Showing up right alongside the others. Helping care for my mother. Being there for my father. Taking care of my family. That was where my responsibilities were. In Ireland.

  I never should have forgotten that.

  I blinked back the tears as the cab pulled up in front of my building. I couldn’t afford the luxury of giving in to my emotions. I had managed to put myself on standby for a flight leaving in a little over an hour, so I needed to pack. I hadn’t left much behind when I moved here, and I didn’t want to have to make a stop between the airport and the hospital, which meant packing was a necessity. Especially since I had no idea how long I would be there.

  Or if I would return to America at all.

  24

  Alix

  Sine was late.

  She was never late.

  I kept looking at my phone, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. It was nearly eleven o’clock, and I didn’t have a call or a text from her. I’d been so wrapped up in designing the next series of photos I wanted to take that I hadn’t realized I was still alone until Erik had texted me about our normal Friday night thing and I’d seen the time.

  I’d gone to the office to see why she hadn’t stopped to say hi, but she wasn’t there. For the last fifteen minutes, I’d been telling myself to keep waiting, to not make assumptions. That she must’ve had a good reason for not calling and telling me she was going to be late.

  She was a responsible person. A hard worker. Reliable.

  She wouldn’t have simply blown off work.

  After trying to convince myself that everything was okay for a quarter of an hour, I decided that it was better to risk her being annoyed with me for calling to see where she was, than it would be to stay in the dark.

  The call went to voicemail immediately, which meant her phone was off, but I sent a text anyway. In the short time I’d known her, I’d never seen her turn the phone off, and the fact that it appeared to be powered down was starting to turn worry into something else.

  I rubbed my jaw and told myself to think. If her phone was off, then she’d either turned it off, forgotten to charge it, had a phone problem...or she was in trouble. I had no way to check the first three directly, but I could do it indirectly.

  She no longer had a roommate, but her apartment had a landline. I’d never seen her use it, but I knew a lot of apartments had kept landlines around, so I assumed hers still worked. I just had to find the number.

  Now that I had something specific to do, I was able to focus. And multi-task. I called information while pulling up a search engine on my laptop. The search engine provided what I needed, and I made the call as I restlessly tapped my fingers on the table. If her phone had broken, that could explain why she was late since most people used their phones as alarm clocks.

  I let the phone ring for nearly two solid minutes before finally giving up. She wasn’t there. Even if she was in the shower, she would have heard the phone and gotten out surely.

  But if she was there, why wouldn’t she have used the landline to call me? Unless she didn’t have my number memorized. Or she’d simply forgotten about that phone. Either one made sense.

  But, as much as I hated to admit it, the more likely scenario meant that something was really wrong.

  My stomach churned as I pulled up a list of hospitals in New York. I had two more calls to make before I started on these, but whatever optimism I’d had was starting to fade.

  “Bean Bodega, how can I help you?”

  “Hello.” I used my business voice, figuring it’d probably be more likely to get answers than if I was abrupt. “I sent my assistant to pick up some coffee early this morning. Short redhead. Irish.”

  “Yes, sir, she was here.” The young woman on the other end sounded way too chipper for someone who worked in a service industry.

  “Can you tell me when?”

  “I’d just started my shift, so about eight thirty or so.”

  Shit. That sounded like the time she must’ve usually stopped there.

  “But she didn’t buy anything, sir, so there shouldn’t be a problem with an order.” A note of concern crept into the girl’s voice.

  “What do you mean she didn’t buy anything?” I demanded.

  “She came in just as I punched in, and I recognized her because I’ve served her before, but this time, she left before she could order.” The words rushed out of her, as if she was afraid I’d lash out at her for something she had no control over.

  “She left?”

  “Yes, sir. I was filling a customer’s order for a double expresso latte when I saw her walk out.”

  I knew better than to ask if she knew why. Bean Bodega was always packed in the morning. It was remarkable she’d noticed anything at all.

  “Thank you,” I said, ending the call before she could respond.

  The fact that she’d been at the bodega for coffee told me she’d planned on coming into work. Something had changed though. It could have been anything from her feeling sick to deciding to get coffee somewhere else, or something outside might have gotten her attention, though what that could have been, I couldn’t imagine.

  Between the bodega and the studio, something had happened to keep her from coming into work.

  Which meant I had other calls I needed to make.

  I started with the hospitals, each call stretching my nerves and patience until they were both at a breaking point. Two hospitals told me that they had no one there by her name, but the others had refused to say anything without confirmation that I was a relative or spouse. Fortunately, I had people in influential places who owed me favors, including a private investigator.

  “Max, it’s Alix Wexler.”

  “Mr. Wexler, it’s good to hear from you.” As always, Max’s voice was smooth, professional.

  “Are you in New York right now?”

  There was a slight pause that told me my question had come out a little more blunt than I’d intended.

  “I am.”

  “Sorry,” I apologized quickly. “I just have a case for you that needs top
priority. If you’re busy, I’ll take a recommendation.”

  Another pause. I’d only met Max once or twice over the years, but my parents had sworn by his PI skills more than once when company employees or businesses had needed investigating. He was the best.

  “I’ll pay you double your usual rate,” I offered.

  “No need,” he said. “I don’t base case priority on who has the most money to throw around.”

  I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. “I didn’t mean to insult you,” I said evenly. “My girlfriend is missing, and I need you to find her.”

  “Her name?”

  “Sine McNiven.”

  “How long has she been missing?”

  Even as I said it, I knew what he would say in response. “Since this morning.”

  “Was she taken off the street? From her home?”

  At least he wasn’t telling me I was overreacting. I gave him a quick rundown of everything I knew already.

  “The two of you work together?”

  His words were carefully chosen. He knew who I was because he knew my family, which meant he knew that I was a photographer.

  “She’s my assistant.”

  I knew better than to add that she was also modeling for me. He’d already think poorly of me for getting involved with an employee.

  “When was the last time you spoke with her?”

  I had to give him credit for keeping his judgment out of his voice. “Last night.”

  “And she didn’t mention having anything else to do today?”

  “No.” I curbed my impatience, reminding myself that he could get information from hospitals that I couldn’t. “And before you ask, we didn’t have a fight. Things are going well between us.”

  “Have you contacted any family or friends to see if she talked to them?”

  I pushed my hand through my hair. “Look, we’ve only been together for a little while. She’s from Ireland, so I haven’t even met her family.” I didn’t add that we hadn’t even technically discussed whether or not we were referring to each other in boyfriend-girlfriend terms.

  “That’s why you called me.”

  “Exactly. Now are you going to take the case or not?”

  “I will.” There was a beat before he continued, “If you could send me a picture, I’ll begin making the rounds. If I find her, I’ll call you immediately.”

  After we finished up the rest of the details he needed from me, I started calling every other place I could think of. Restaurants we’d been together. Jean, though I kept my reasons for calling as vague as possible. Gilded Cage. Every business between here and the bodega.

  Morgues.

  As each called turned up nothing, I became more frustrated and less concerned, especially once I’d gotten the morgues out of the way. For three hours, I talked with people who were rude, bored, annoyed, and everything in-between, and I got nothing.

  I tried calling her again, but there was still nothing. Every single one of them went straight to voicemail, where I left increasingly terse messages asking her to call me and let me know that she was all right.

  As the afternoon went on without any progress, I had to face the fact that wherever Sine was, she didn’t want me to find her. After all, how hard would it have been for her to call me and tell me what she was doing? Or a text? Or if her phone was dead, there were dozens of possible options, not the least of which was to stop here herself and explain why she’d blown off work. Blown off me.

  It wasn’t like she’d simply stood me up for a date. She had a job. Two of them, actually. Contracts that she’d signed. If nothing else, professionalism and courtesy weren’t too much to ask for. I didn’t know of any other employer who’d have spent the day looking for a missing employee rather than just firing them. Hospitalization, okay, that would be an understandable absence, but I was getting more and more confident that she wasn’t hurt or in trouble.

  She just hadn’t cared enough about her job, or me, to tell me she wouldn’t be coming in today.

  As the fourth hour came and went without a word from her or from Max, I’d had enough. I dialed her number one final time.

  Each word I said was flat and cold. I made no attempt to disguise my anger. I should have felt relief at ending things, but all I felt was mildly sick. I needed to get out of here. The studio held too many memories of her, and all I wanted to do right now was forget.

  25

  Sine

  “Miss. Miss.”

  A woman’s voice pulled me from a drug-induced slumber. For several long seconds, I couldn’t remember where I was or why I needed to wake up. As I finally managed to raise my heavy eyelids, I saw a pair of near-black eyes watching me, and a pleasant smile on a plain face.

  “We’ll be making our descent shortly.” She straightened and moved on.

  My eyes followed her, my befuddled brain slowly taking in random details and piecing them together until I was able to remember that I was in an airplane. Once that clicked into place, everything else came flooding back and the fog that’d been in my head dissipated.

  I was going home. Mam was in the hospital. I needed to get to her.

  I rubbed my hands over my eyes, then ran my fingers through my curls. They were probably sticking out at mad angles, but as long as I didn’t look like the sort of random psycho who shouldn’t be allowed into the country, I didn’t care. I dug in my purse for some gum, then sat back and waited, my leg bouncing, fingers tapping.

  “Nervous?”

  I looked over at my seatmate. The elderly woman had been busy chatting with the person in front of us before I’d fallen asleep, but now her attention was focused on me.

  Wonderful.

  “Just eager to get on the ground,” I said, making an attempt to smile.

  “Coming home from a trip?” she asked, eyes lighting up when she heard my accent.

  I shook my head. “I moved to New York for school and stayed.”

  Or, at least, that’s how it’d been.

  “Ah,” she said. “Home for a visit then?”

  This was not a conversation I wanted to have, but I couldn’t figure out a way to politely ignore her question. I could, however, answer her honestly and hope it discouraged additional questions. “My mam’s in the hospital.”

  “Oh, you poor dear.” She put her hand on my arm as her eyes teared up.

  For the next twenty-five minutes, she told me her life story, and I smiled and nodded, letting the words slip in one ear and out the other. She meant well, I supposed, thinking that her tale of woe offered me some sort of commiseration, but I didn’t want to share what I was going through with a complete stranger. I had my siblings waiting for me, and they were the only ones I wanted to talk to about this. They would alleviate my guilt for not being there when it happened, for not being able to rush right to the hospital.

  I still held it against myself though. Until the sleep aid I’d taken had pulled me under, I’d been going through every decision I’d made, every choice to stay in the States, every time I’d put schoolwork and saving for an apartment before trying to fly home for holidays, every missed opportunity to call or text or video chat. Each one of them ran through my head, one after another, mocking me, telling me what a horrible daughter I’d been. I should have gone to England. France. Scotland. Wales. Spain. A thousand different places that were closer than New York.

  After college, I could have gone back. It hadn’t been like I’d had some sort of glamorous job that I couldn’t have found in Ireland. Even if I hadn’t wanted to join in the family business, there were plenty of opportunities just as good as the temp work I’d been doing in New York.

  Except I wouldn’t have met Alix.

  I bolted upright in my seat, startling the woman next to me.

  Shit! Alix!

  I’d completely forgotten to call him and tell him what happened. I’d been so busy and then security had taken forever. I’d barely made it onto the plane before being told to shut all elect
ronics down. Everything else had slipped my mind. He must have been going crazy, not knowing where I’d been for the last ten hours.

  I pulled my phone out of my purse. I’d turned it off rather than just putting it on airplane mode so I wouldn’t drive myself crazy constantly checking it for updates that couldn’t come through. Before I could turn it on, however, the flight attendant was back.

  “Miss, you’ll need to put that away.” Her voice was polite, the words something she’d probably said a million times before.

  I nodded and put it back in my bag. A few more minutes wouldn’t hurt anything.

  My nervous fidgeting grew worse the more time that passed. It felt like we’d been waiting forever, first to land, and then to come to a stop. I unbuckled as soon as the light went off, then gathered my things, ready to go as soon as we were allowed. Normally, I would’ve been the person who let others go first, but not today. It was almost midnight, but I had enough adrenaline coursing through my veins that I knew I’d be up for hours. Jet lag was going to hit me hard, but not before I had the chance to see for myself that Mam would be okay.

  I’d debated the wisdom of checking luggage, but in the end, I managed to get enough for a week crammed into a single carry-on, so I went straight from the plane to the place where Colin was waiting. He’d been dating Donald for three years now, but I’d only met him once when he’d come with my brother to my graduation.

  As I paused by the door, I turned on my phone. Colin was supposed to text me when he arrived so I’d know where to find him, but I didn’t see a message from him yet. What I did see was a dozen missed messages, almost as many missed calls and voicemails. All from Alix.

  Fuck.

  I scanned through the messages, frowning as the tone went from concerned to annoyed. He wasn’t exactly being rude, but they were shitty enough that by the time I moved on to the voicemails, I was ready to give him a piece of my mind when I called him back.